


It's no big surprise that you turned out this way.

by holtcest



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Background Matt/Allura, F/M, Incest, Parent/Child Incest, Unrequited Crush, sex as coping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-07-20 13:33:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16138292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holtcest/pseuds/holtcest
Summary: When she gets a text from Matt late that night(god, it has to be close to two in the morning), what he sent her made her brain short-circuit. It’s a picture of him and some girl(pretty, with thick curls and a big smile), captioned simply with:“Sorry, it was date night!”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is gonna be a three-parter but holy FUCK am I ready to post more content!!
> 
> As always, send requests over to holtcestsims.tumblr.com!!

The house is empty; has been, for a while now. After Matt got his college acceptance letter two years ago, he’s only been back a few times. One for Christmas the first year, and to move out his things in the second. Katie  _loathed_ every moment she spent watching him pack, and he promised her that she can visit whenever she wants– but it sits sourly in her stomach. She’s loved him for a long time, but never dared to speak a word; betraying the strong sibling bond would only break her heart further ( _she can’t imagine what would happen if he didn’t love her back_ ). She contents herself to keeping her distance, to cherishing the moments when he’ll still hold her while they watch movies or hold his hand when they go out for lunch.

But now he’s gone, and doesn’t visit, and hasn’t returned her texts. Usually she complains to her mom about how dodgy Matt is, and she’ll say something like “ _Oh, just let him be an adult, Katie! He’s enjoying life!”_ , but her mom is on a trip to further her research and its just her and dad alone in the house for a week. When she gets a text from Matt late that night ( _god, it has to be close to two in the morning_ ), what he sent her made her brain short-circuit. It’s a picture of him and some girl ( _pretty, with thick curls and a big smile_ ), captioned simply with:

“ _Sorry, it was date night!”_

And she  _knows_  she has no right to feel so betrayed, to watch as drops of tears slowly collect on her screen until it times out and just leaves her looking into a darkened version of her reflection. Katie looks into that blank image, watches her own brow furrow before she stifles a sob behind her hand. As if the phone itself was to blame, she chucks it across the room to slam against the wall ( _something cracks_ ); she can’t be brought to care that it might be broken as she stuffs her face into a pillow and cries. Her sobs hurt her lungs, snot gathers in her nose and she chokes on her own spittle as she soaks through the pillowcase. Her cries must’ve carried down the hall where her father could hear her ( _or perhaps the slam of her phone breaking startled him awake_ ), because there are footsteps echoing towards her room before the gentle  _one-two_  knock of her dad’s knuckles rapping on the door catches her attention. He opens the door when all she can manage is a grand snuffle.

“Katie?” Her face is pressed tightly enough into the pillow that its hard to breathe. “Pumpkin, what’s wrong?”

Katie doesn’t have the strength to answer, to drag her face from the safety of her pillow and sob into her hands; she only moves when she feels the familiar weight of Sam sitting down next to her. His hand is large and warm on her back as he rubs up and down her spine, presses firmly into the space between her shoulder blades and asks again, in a soft tone that makes his voice rumble low in his throat.

Her hair is sticking to her cheeks from where the tears mat the bouncy curls, and she wraps herself up around Sam’s lap instead of saying anything. For a few moments she catches her breath, clutching the soft cotton of her father’s pants and willing her voice to return to her. Her dad lets her take her time, wipes away tears and pets her hair like he did when she was a lot younger; Katie’s lip wobbles as she speaks. “Matt, he…” More tears spill over her cheeks. “…he’s  _dating_ someone.”

Sam doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even pause in the methodical, rhythmic stroking of her hair, just lets her  _weep_ and talk about how she didn’t even  _know_ , how Matt has grown more and more  _distant_ since moving out and how she doesn’t know what to do with herself anymore. Katie wipes the wetness from her chin and clings to her dad’s chest, breaths stuttering as she makes him  _swear_ not to tell anyone this secret she’s imparting to him, how it’ll  _ruin_ her and everyone would  _hate_ her, and all he can do is sigh and hold her tighter.

“I know I– I don’t have the right, its not okay for… for me to feel like this, but I-!” Katie chokes here, the lump in her throat a stopper as she tries to keep herself from spilling her guts into her father’s lap. “Dad, I  _love_  Matt so  _much_  and– and he can  _never know_  and no matter what I do, I can’t–”

“Shhh,” Sam hushes her, gathers her up into his arms tighter and gives her a squeeze. “Katie, I’m…” 

“I don’t want  _you_ to hate me, either, I don’t think I can handle it,  _please_ ,” she cuts him off, pulling away from where she’s soaked through his nightshirt. Katie isn’t sure what she looks like right now ( _eyes red and puffy, lip glossy from biting it to stifle her grief_ )– pathetic, perhaps? If she does, Sam doesn’t mention it, just frowns and gives her a look filled with so much pity that it makes her shoulders feel heavy. He picks her up as easily as he had when she was a little girl, and carries her down to the kitchen, setting her down on a stool before bustling about the kitchen. He cooks without speaking to her, and she rests her head in the cradle of her arms, taking deep breaths and trying not to cry again. She almost wishes he’d yelled at her, called her disgusting,  _anything_  except this deafening silence. Five, maybe ten minutes pass before he’s setting down a plate in front of her, and she raises her head to look at the egg-in-the-hole he’d made. 

It was one of the things Sam used to make for her when she was little and scraped her knee, or when she broke her leg– most of the worst points of her childhood were raised up by this simple snack, giving her warmth and filled with love and she eats it quietly while her dad does the dishes. By the time he’s swiped her clean plate from her, she’s settled into tired sniffs of her nose, eyes long since dried of tears, the bags underneath them more pronounced than ever. Quietly, he sits next to her, pulls his chair a bit close so he can rub her shoulder, one arm slung across her back. He doesn’t say anything ( _can’t offer her words of advice_ ), just rubs circles into her skin until she’s leaned against him, face settled into the hollow of his throat. 

“Katie,” Sam starts again, nearly an hour after she cut him off. Katie bites her lip, doesn’t trust herself to not speak out of turn. “I’m sorry that… this happened,” He avoids the topic itself, thankfully. “There isn’t anything I can really offer you besides my comfort.”

She’d never noticed it before, but her dad and Matt shared many features– they have the same nose, the same lips. Even their jawlines were similar, although her dad had taken to hiding it with a beard. Katie traces the line of his cheekbones while he talks, reminds her that she can confide  _anything_ in him, thanking her for  _trusting_  him enough to tell him such a deep secret. All she can do is nod, and try not to cry all over again; without thinking about how it might seem, she presses a dry-lipped kiss to his neck. Sam freezes beside her, and she can see the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows– for a moment the whole world feels like its standing still, where she’s still tucked into his side and his hand is stuck where it sits on her shoulder. Boldly, she repeats the action, firmer this time, feeling the scratch of his beard on her cheek. 

Then everything happens at once.

Sam pushes her gently away from him, and she makes this noise like she’s been  _burned_ , and she can see indecision and guilt flicking in his eyes before he leans in closer to her. Katie tugs on the collar of his shirt, pulls him in the rest of the way and mashes their lips together clumsily, with too much teeth ( _unpracticed; she’d only been kissed once_ ) but he just exhales harshly, coaxes her into a gentler kiss that swells their lips and makes her heart race. Her dad mutters something against her mouth, but she just uses the opportunity to flick her tongue against his, to drop them further down the rabbit-hole of senseless lust that drives them. Before long he’s pulling her off of the stool and up onto the counter, pushing up the too-big t-shirt ( _one of Matt’s, old and worn to threads_ ) to squeeze her thighs in calloused hands. Katie spreads her legs, uses her ankles to pull him closer to her, until the air between them was humid and makes her cheeks flush red. Briefly they paused, one of Sam’s hands lingering along the elastic of her underwear, and all she can manage is a throaty whisper.

“Please,” Katie whines, need nearly palpable in her tone. “Dad, please.”

Her eyes catch the way he licks his lips, as if in thought, before he starts wiggling the offending piece of cotton down, working it off her legs and tossing it carelessly aside. Katie can hardly think over the way her heart races, can hardly form coherent speech once she feels his fingers tracing along the slick folds of her cunt. Sam, for what its worth, still seems to be fighting with his morality; but Katie’s too deep into her mindset that the only form of regret she feels is that this moment isn’t spent with her  _brother_ between her thighs. He rubs a thumb against the swollen bud of her clit, and she leans back on the counter, a startled moan ringing in her ears. All things considered, she’s embarrassingly wet, rolling her hips against the gentle circles her father rubs against her clit; Katie squeezes her eyes shut, letting herself fall back onto the cool stone counter and shuddering.

The next time she opens her eyes, Sam’s tugging down his pants to get his cock out, stroking himself in time to the flick of his thumb, a half-moan of her name on his lips and it lights her skin on  _fire_  just hearing it. It takes a little bit of angling, of her leaning her weight on Sam as he slides his cockhead against her slippery pussy, but when he slides into her the strain on her hamstrings is worth it. Katie’s always been small, and even though she’s a grown woman now that doesn’t change how positively  _dwarfed_  she feels as the tip of Sam’s cock is pressed flush to her cervix. His beard tickles her throat as he leans in, hiding his face against the curve of her shoulder, and Katie has one hand on the counter and one gripping his back. The guilt swims in her gut when he pulls his hips back, rolling them into a gentle thrust that has her yelping out in surprise. His arms loop around her middle, holding her ever closer, until their skin feels molten and melty between each smooth pump of his hips.

Vaguely, Katie is aware that the sky outside is growing lighter the longer she spends writing under her father’s misguided comfort, under the press of hips and lips, of his teeth nipping along the exposed bit of skin along her throat. Sam draws moan after spilled moan from her, leaving wet kisses on any exposed skin he can reach, muttering something under his breath that she can’t hear over her own staccato breathing. Somewhere along the line they grow frantic, chasing highs that neither of them had any right to seek, an unpracticed dance they never should have fallen into step with. A part of Katie snaps where the heat had built up, where pressure had made her eager and her father isn’t too far behind, spilling into her deeply. For a few moments they just breathe, her head resting on the curve of his shoulder while he slowly pulls out of her, spent.

What they did here, in the dead of night– they don’t speak about it after.

There’s no time for guilt when the sun comes up, peeking through the kitchen blinds and casting their molded bodies in too-warm tones for the grand sin they’ve committed. Sam doesn’t offer her scoldings or promises to never let this happen again, because they both know there’s a chance they’ll slip up and tryst will turn into routine. Katie pulls her shirt back down, picks up the ruined panties that fell onto the barstool and watches her father tuck himself away and pull up his sweatpants. There’s a glaring red mark on her neck, caught easy in this gentle light, and Sam swallows and looks away. 

“Get some rest.”

“Right.”


	2. Chapter 2

Two nights later– or maybe it’s three– Katie’s hemming and hawing outside her parent’s bedroom door. The lights are still on in the room ( _it_   _paints her bare feet in yellow light_ ), drifting from the crack under the door; she’s wringing her hands in her shirt, trying not to think to hard about what she’s going to ask. Then, with a deep breath, she knocks on the door and waits for a response. A few moments later, the gentle sound of feet on wood echo back to her; her dad opens the door to lean against the frame, almost casual. They stand like this, suspended in time, as Katie thinks of how to say what she wants, what kind of reaction she's seeking with it. Her hands worry against the worn fabric of her shirt, blunt nails picking at threads.

“I… don’t want to be alone tonight.” She says, avoiding his eyes ( _afraid of rejection, of being shut out of the worst distraction_ ), biting her lip softly. “Can I spend it with you?”

Sam, to his credit, looks a bit uncomfortable when she glances up at him– but the moment his eyes meet hers, he slumps and steps aside to allow her inside. The room looks about the same as it had years and years ago, when she’d crawl into her parent’s bed when the darkness scared her; photos are hung on the walls, of her and Matt at school, of holidays and birthdays. The smiles she wears in them look so much more carefree, and it makes her long for her youth where she could still be close to her brother. Sam touching her back snaps her out of her daze ( _even this small touch feels **scalding** , even though her shirt_); she turns to him with that same wobbly lip she wore a few nights ago.

This time, he doesn’t dawdle as long, doesn’t make her wait before he’s guiding her to his bed, pressing a too-soft kiss to her forehead. Katie makes a gentle noise, something like a dying bird, and Sam chases that noise away with a more firm press of his lips to hers. It’s a little awkward ( _and she has such little sense to think that with practice it’ll get easier_ ), him leaning over her with one knee between her thighs, but she pulls him down to her with minimal struggle to give them an even playing field. It’s easier, because she’s not as shy when she feel’s his erection against her hip, tenting soft pajama pants and he flushes when she purposefully brushes a hand over it. As if this is the trigger, his hands are exploring her more fervently, hands dragging over her shoulders, her back, gripping her hips a little bit tighter than the last time. 

There’s a scramble to remove their clothes, but before long Katie’s straddling her father’s lap, grinding her pussy against his cock; the only thing steadying the soft grind of her hips are Sam’s hands, rubbing circles into her hipbones. With one hand planted on his chest, she leans forward and reaches between them to line him up with her messy cunt, lowering her body too fast and with too much pressure. But he endures, keeps her still, and only bucks up to meet her downward thrust when she moves. Katie’s thighs burn, but she can ignore it and imagine something else ( _her brother’s hands, groping and rubbing and ravenous_ ) instead of the more gentle way her father handles her.

“I won’t break, dad.”

Sam licks his lips in that same nervous way, curtly nodding to her before using more strength to lift her and bring her down onto his cock. She doesn’t think about how this time, she probably should’ve brought a condom, how its dangerous that he keeps cumming inside of her; just lets him move her, moves  _with_ him, bites her lip so she doesn’t say the wrong name when he pulls an orgasm out of her. Katie shakes and slaps a hand over her mouth, muffling the sounds of her orgasm; Sam pumps his hips into her a few more times ( _chasing his own release, or maybe chasing his sin away_ ) before they meld into each other on the bed, heaving with breaths and stuttering heartbeats.

It’s not as late ( _the sky still dark outside_ ), but Sam doesn’t make her leave the room when they finish, and Katie drifts off to sleep curled up next to her dad, his cum dribbling down her thighs and staining the sheets below.


	3. Chapter 3

The last night it happens ( _too close to Friday, to when her mother will come walking back into the house_ ), Katie pushes her dad against the wall after he gets out of the shower. It’s been a long day where Katie’s gotten more and more restless ( _the freshness of her loss of Matt burns her skin_ ), and her heart aches in newer,  _darker_ places because she knows this won’t solve any of her problems, but she’ll be  _damned_ if she doesn’t seek Sam out anyway. They kiss like longtime lovers, all tongue and spit as she’s straining on tip-toes to reach him. Sam holds her by the waist, encouraging her ( _frantic to reach under her top_ ) to press further together, to loosen the towel about his waist. When Sam ducks his head to nip at the soft spot of her throat ( _already bearing his mark_ ), Katie keens and wraps a hand around his cock, stroking him to full hardness. 

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Katie thinks how she shouldn’t be doing this, prompting it,  _initiating_ – but then again, she knows that this boundary is already shattered between the two of them. Sam’s hands wander further down to her hips, maneuvering them so their positions are swapped. He crowds her against the wall, the scratch of his beard enough to keep her grounded in the moment while he slips a hand into her pajama pants. Bothering with underwear seemed pointless, so he’s met with the fine trimmed curls that lay underneath the fabric instead, and Katie can feel how his breath hitches by the way his fingers stutter on the way to her clit. It makes her feel  _powerful_ , and she can practically hear how her father’s heartbeat thrums just under his skin.

They tangle themselves together, kissing sloppily on the way back to her father’s room. He lifts her so easily, and she’s momentarily reminded of just how  _small_  she is, how he fits inside of her body snugly. Katie doesn’t know why she keeps coming back, keeps molding their lip together, keeps her hips rolling down onto his cock in a beat-less pace. Maybe because she knows if she stops to think too long, all the emotions she’s spent time carefully locking away will rush up to meet her, to bring her to ruin in a matter of moments. Sam fucks into her rougher than before, holds her hips tight enough that she hopes it’ll bruise, both chasing relief that neither will ever truly get from the other. When her mother comes home, this will stop, and Katie will go back to isolating herself, locking herself away in her room. 

Its late when they finally tire, when her dad dozes next to her; she’s sticky with cum and sweat, uncomfortable, so she makes her way out of his room, takes a shower in such a short time that it’s more of a rinse. Going into her room felt like exploring a crypt, but she had to do it– her clothes feel different, somehow, when she pulls them on. For a while she simply sits on her bed, head in her hands, her life laid out ahead of her, uncertain. Quickly, she glances to where her phone lays on the floor, and sighs. She has to plug it in to charge.

The crack splits the screen unevenly in half, and the picture Katie had set as her lock screen  _(Matt and her, pressed close, making ridiculous faces)_  is now hauntingly broken by this…  _thing_ she’s done. The jealousy she still feels makes her blood boil, but what can she really do other than cry? The screen lights up with notifications, of Matt asking her how she is, expressing worry over her radio silence over the week, but Katie doesn’t have the heart to reply.

Instead, she crawls back into her father’s bed, curls against his chest, and sleeps.


End file.
